


Thinking Out Loud

by Shamelessly_Obsessed



Category: The Walking Dead (Comics), The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6170710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Obsessed/pseuds/Shamelessly_Obsessed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's something about Jesus that Daryl can't quite figure out, though Jesus seems to know Daryl inside and out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The manor house was, well otherworldly in Daryl’s eyes. But he’d grown up in a run down shit hole with an alcoholic mother and abusive father, so the only expensive thing they owned was a bong that he was sure his father had stolen anyway. So yeah, the manor on the hilltop surprised Daryl, but it definitely didn’t amaze him. He was past the point of enjoying the little things. Life was a pile of shit before the apocalypse, and it would continue to hold nothing for him afterward. He had taught himself long ago not to treasure anything, cause ‘anything you care about either destroys or kills ya’ as Merle would slur after chasing tail that never wanted to bite.

The group was busy ‘cleaning up’ for the prick who probably hadn’t gotten his hands dirty since this shit storm happened. Daryl had slid into a room on the way. Losing the group was easy, not cos they didn’t notice him slink away, but cos they were used to him needing his own space, and far past the point of following. 

That was, except for the new guy.

Daryl didn’t bother turning to face him. Instead he continued to move into the room, eyes scanning but not settling on anything in particular. He was finding it difficult to concentrate, the new guy set him off balance, put him on edge. And damn it if he wasn’t focusing all his attention on not trying to figure out why that was. Daryl could feel the guy moving, fucking feel it. It was driving him crazy.

The archer tilted his head when he heard the unmistakable thud off leather hit the floor, before lurching around to find Jesus taking off his belt. 

“Wha’ the fuck-?” Daryl spluttered, his mind trying to figure out what this prick’s game was.

Jesus’s hands paused before slowly rising in that stupid Christ-on-the-fucking-cross way, all bright blue eyes and apologetic smiles. 

“Sorry, just second nature,” he replied evenly, as though that was supposed to explain everything. 

“Huh?” Daryl grunted, eyes narrowing and body tensed, ready to pop the guy in the damn jaw. 

Jesus groaned and rolled his eyes, clearly bored of the whole macho act. 

“Calm down, big guy. This is my room. Whenever I get back from a mission I get washed up and changed – it’s become somewhat of a routine; Gregory doesn’t like me messing up the manor,” he explained with another sigh. Jesus must have the same impression that Daryl did; Gregory was a prick who had no idea how the world worked anymore.

Realisation dawned on Daryl’s features as he blinked dumbly for a second, before scratching the back of his head and fidgeting slightly. Embarrassed that he’d jumped to the wrong conclusion.

“Uh, sorry. Din’ know,” he grunted awkwardly. 

Shuffling slowly, Daryl made to leave, trying to give Jesus as wide a birth as possible. But before he could escape he felt a hand on his arm, spreading heat like a damn cattle iron on his bare flesh. Daryl’s eyes snapped over to meet bright blue orbs, sincere and too damn big.

“Wait outside, I’ll give you a tour,” Jesus offered with a small quirk of his lips. “I should keep you away from Gregory; you might knock him out, and I might let you.” The smirk spread properly over his lips. 

Daryl offered an approving grunt in response. 

It only took Jesus a couple minutes to get himself ready. He reemerged from his room in clean clothes with his hair tied back in a bun. Daryl raised an eyebrow in question. 

“You wish you could pull this look off,” he replied, eyes twinkling as he smoothed his hair back. 

The comment helped to ease some of the tension from Daryl’s shoulders, forcing a light huff from his lips, that Jesus was going to assume was his version of a chuckle. 

Most of the rooms were identical, and held no interest for Daryl. He only showed intrigue when they entered the top of the house, climbing a spiral staircase they ended up in a small room with windows all around them, giving them a perfect view of the surrounding area. 

“Ya’ll don’t have have someone up here all the time?” Daryl questioned, somewhat accusingly. 

“Gregory doesn’t think it’s necessary,” Jesus answered a little too quickly, with clear disapproval. 

“Why the hell he runnin’ this joint?” 

“People like him. He wasn’t my first choice, but at the time it was easier to let him think he was in charge. I influence him wherever I can,” Jesus answered with a simple shrug. 

Daryl shook his head, grunting quietly as he turned to look out the window. His eyes scanned the treeline, there were a few walkers stumbling around but that seemed to be it. Maybe they were the ones that had it easy, Daryl mused to himself, no cares in the world, just bumping into trees and groaning, not fighting to survive and being afraid of every turn. 

“You do that a lot,” Jesus said, dragging Daryl from his thoughts. He turned to stare at the other man, eyes narrowed as he tried to remember what he’d done. 

“Do what?”

Jesus smiled softly and lowered his head, a few strands of hair falling free from his bun and falling into his eyes. Daryl wasn’t enjoying the intensity of his gaze, or the goofy smile on his face. It made him feel off balance – yet again.

“What?” Daryl grunted again, shoulders tensing. He had the irritating feeling that Jesus was making fun of him. 

Jesus shook his head before answering, “nothing. Relax, I just find you amusing.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed and jaw tensed, clearly taking offense at the other man’s words. 

“Well I ain’t here for your fucking entertainment, prick,” he growled, moving to storm back down the stairs. But Jesus quickly darted into his path – how the hell did he move so fast? 

“Wait,” Jesus replied, hand coming to settle on Daryl’s chest. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just find it amazing that someone who has so much going on upstairs only comes out with a couple words every couple hours.” Daryl’s confused look urged the man to continue. “You spend so much time in your head, thinking, all the time analysing everything, but you don’t voice it. You have thoughts – probably profound ones – but you don’t push them on people. I find that amusing. Most people on that level never shut up.”

Daryl blinked – was that a compliment? How the fuck was he supposed to respond to that? Did he say thank you? Or what? Merle would have told him to kick the shit out of Jesus right now, but he knew that wasn’t right. But still, he wasn’t used to this. Conversations made him nervous. Talking about himself made Daryl nervous. Jesus made him fucking nervous. 

“There you go again,” Jesus whispered. 

Daryl glanced down at the hand still firmly planted on his chest, that burning warmth spreading rapidly throughout his torso. People didn’t usually touch Daryl – not in this, soft, gentle sort of way. He wasn’t sure how to respond.

“What’re you doin’?” He asked, looking back at Jesus with an intense stare.

Jesus was about to answer when a familiar voice rang out from below. Rick.

Their little moment had been interrupted, which Daryl was pretty thankful for. He wasn’t ready for this shit. He didn’t do well with physical contact – which was why he was still confused that he’d allowed it in the first place. 

The journey back to Alexandria was pretty uneventful. Though he did spend an awful lot of time avoiding the piercing gaze of Jesus, who had sat opposite him, feet occasionally tapping Daryl’s boots, trying to get a reaction, but Daryl just closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Jesus wasn’t the only one who could feign sleep. 

Daryl sighed softly as he sank down onto the couch in his house, which thankfully he shared with nobody. Peace and quiet, just like he liked it. Kicking off his boots, Daryl laid down on the soft cushions. He still felt out of place, a dirty biker living like a suburban bachelor – didn’t really suit him. And hell, he definitely wasn’t about to start wearing sweater vests and hosting a barbeques, but he wasn’t gonna sit on the floor either. 

His head tilted minutely to the side as he heard a soft creak come from a floorboard near the doorway, his fingers were already working silently to unsheathe his knife, gently sliding it out and ready to lunge. 

“Easy there, crocodile Dundee. It’s just me, your friendly neighbourhood Jesus.”

“Oh for the love of-“ 

“Don’t use my father’s name in vain,” Jesus chastised with a low chuckle.

Daryl threw his knife onto the coffee table, knocking over a candle and a dumb ornament that looked like two people wrapped in silk. He swung his legs around and sat up to look at the intruder. 

“I thought you were staying with Rick and Michonne,” Daryl grumbled as he leaned forward to pick up the ornament and set it right – it felt like the right thing to do, wasn’t his stuff after all. 

Jesus threw himself into the seat next to him. “They just hooked up – you really think I can sleep in the room next to theirs?” 

Daryl offered a grunt in response. Made sense – except – “Why you here?” He questioned, waving his hands around him.

Jesus rolled his eyes before leaning over and placing his head on Daryl’s shoulder, reminding the archer of their first car journey together. He glanced up at Daryl through his eyelashes, blue eyes practically shining in the dim light. 

“Is it really that hard to believe that I like you?” He asked, voice sincere. 

“Ye,” Daryl replied. 

“Well, you’ll just have to get used to it, cos I ain’t going anywhere until you do.” 

Jesus grinned widely before standing back up and moving towards to kitchen, asking over his shoulder if Daryl had anything to drink. 

Daryl groaned quietly and closed his eyes. People didn’t usually hang around too long. Either they died, or they got fed up of waiting for him to open up – death usually came first. 

By the morning everything seemed a lot less strange, but maybe that’s cos Daryl was an early riser and Jesus was still sleeping on the couch – well that’s if he wasn’t playing possum again. 

Daryl pulled out a box of cereal, tugging the lid open and thrusting his hand inside to pull out a fist full of stale lucky charms – the marshmellows had been snagged by Carl a few weeks ago, which were Daryl’s favourite part, but damn if he wasn’t gonna let that kid have any scrap of happiness he could manage. Poor kid had already forgotten what most sugary treats tasted like; he deserved it.

After several more overly chewy handfulls, Daryl folded up the cardboard box and put it back into the cupboard. 

Glancing back over at his newly acquired house guest sleeping soundly, he made his way to the porch. He hated being cooped up for too long, felt too domestic. Daryl’d happily sleep under the stars – if there weren’t drooling zombies roaming around that is.

The sun was just beginning to rise, casting an orange hue over the ground and houses. This was his favourite part of the day. Used to be because his dad was passed out drunk from the night before, so he was allowed to relax without the impending threat of a beating, but now he just felt good to have survived another night. And of course, nobody else was awake – apart from a guard watching the gate –so he could be out in the open without having to pass out pleasantries and try make nice. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the people here, they were good people, but they still looked at him like he was some hillbilly redneck. Daryl didn’t care what people thought, but he hated the looks and the nervous glances. It’s like they were waiting for him to fly off the handle and slit someone’s throat. 

“You’re doing it again.”

Daryl flinched – which he would later deny – away from Jesus, who had somehow managed to sidle up beside him on the porch bench. Sneaky bastard. 

“You need a damn bell,” Daryl muttered angrily – more so at himself than Jesus; how did this guy keep managing to catch him off guard? Daryl had always prided himself on being able to sense people – but not this guy apparently. 

Jesus smirked over at him before replying, “nah, then you’d be able to get away.”

The archer shook his head, though he couldn’t stop his lips from quirking up in response. 

“You don’t always eat cereal straight outta the box, do you?” Jesus asked, a small frown marring his features. The question didn’t need an answer, Daryl knew this prick just wanted to let Daryl know he’d been awake the whole time. 

“Do ya ever sleep?” Daryl questioned, shaking his head. 

“You’ll never know,” he replied with a broad grin. 

With a heavy sigh, Daryl turned his attention back to their surroundings, enjoying the quiet hum of nature waking up, allowed their morning ritual due to the silence around them. 

He could feel Jesus’s eyes boring into the side of his face. Eventually, with a groan of irritation, he gave in and turned his attention back to the other man. 

“What?” He barked in annoyance, staring into the younger man’s eyes. “What do you want? Why you out here buggin’ me?”

Jesus pursed his lips in silent contemplation before answering slowly. “I wanna know what’s on your mind.”

Daryl was about to open his mouth to tell the other guy to mind his own damn business when Jesus spoke up again. 

“And I don’t want a grumpy answer. I want the honest to god truth. I wanna know, right now, what Daryl is thinking. No well rehearsed answers or insults, just the truth. Right now, on this porch, what are you thinking?” 

Daryl’s mouth closed slowly, his eyes widening at the other man’s words. He wasn’t used to people being so upfront with him. It actually caught him off guard – man this guy was good at that. 

So he took a moment to pull his thoughts together. And for once he was gonna open his mouth and say exactly what he was thinking. And not just cuss people out.

“Okay. I’m thinking how pissed off I am that a total stranger feels the need to intrude on my life. I hate that you know how to sneak up on me. You unnerve me. I hate your stupid smile, and that I can’t decide if your eyes are sky blue with green specks or bright green with blue,” he murmured the last part, cheeks flaring up at how stupid that sounded. 

He watched with irritation as a wide grin formed on Jesus’s face. Daryl could practically feel the smugness rolling off of him in waves. 

Before the other man could speak, Daryl leaned forward to catch his lips in firm kiss, making sure to push the other man back so that he couldn’t pull back. Daryl’s hand came up to grip the nape of his neck, holding him in place. He smirked triumphantly when he heard a small groan rumble in Jesus’s throat. And then as quickly at it began Daryl pulled back and turned away to gaze at the rising sun. 

“Well I wasn’t expecting that,” Jesus whispered, clearly in a state of shock. 

“Had to find someway of shutting you up.”

“So if I keep talking will you kiss me again?”

“Wait n’ see.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for how late this is - I was kinda shook up after the finale :/ but I hope this makes up for it - and you'll be happy to know that the next chapter is already on the way :D   
> Thank you all so much for the positivity :D I adore your comments - they drive me on :D

Chapter 2

Daryl barely made it through the gate before the shouting began, a chorus of worried voices all hollering at them, asking if Eugene had been bitten and where Denise was. Jesus was the only one that hung back, head bowed slightly as he took in the archer’s deep frown and sunken shoulders. He was the perfect picture of a broken man.

He couldn’t make eye contact with anybody, even Rick was struggling to get through to him. But all Daryl could hear was her last words, playing on a constant loop in his head, driving him to turn back around and head back to the train tracks. Rick followed, along with Jesus who still hadn’t spoken or inquired about anything. It was like he already knew, just from the look on Daryl’s face. He’d have been pissed off in different circumstances. 

It didn’t take too long to get her back to Alexandria, but it felt like a lifetime, holding her lifeless body in his arms, seeing the blood flow from her head wound, watching as her mouth lolled open every few steps. 

He was careful as he laid her onto the ground and covered her with a sheet, as though he could actually hurt her. She was gone. Just like everybody he ever tried to give a damn about. 

Jesus and Carol helped him with her grave, both keeping silent throughout, knowing he really wasn’t in the mood for chit chat. 

Carol gave him a quick kiss to the cheek before leaving. The sun was almost down – when that happened, he had no idea. Time seemed to be moving differently somehow. He couldn’t quite understand how the world could continue to turn when he was still stuck there, listening to her words over and over and over. 

The next thing he knew he was sitting on his couch, Jesus beside him. Neither of them were speaking, but rather revelling in the silence. 

Daryl glanced over to look at the other man, who sat staring at the fireplace, brows furrowed in deep thought. That’s all the man ever seemed to do; think. But then again, that’s all Daryl did as well, but the only person to ever notice was Jesus. 

“What’re ya thinkin’ ‘bout?” Daryl asked quietly, pleased that the tables had turned and that he was now the one to drag the other from a reverie. 

Jesus didn’t turn his head as he answered softly, “Tara.”

Daryl sighed deeply and hung his head. How had he forgotten about Tara? She would be crushed. Sure, he didn’t know the girl that well, but she had a big heart, and she cared a lot for Denise, that was certain. She loved the woman. It only made the guilt build even higher within him, ready to pour out and consume him whole. 

“What she said to you,” Jesus spoke softly, finally turning those bright blue eyes to land on Daryl’s. “She was right.”

Daryl frowned at his words, though he couldn’t deny that he understood them – and couldn’t help but agree. 

“Yeah, she was,” Daryl replied, voice low and gruff as he leaned over to press his lips against the other man’s, as though trying to show his acceptance rather than just voice it. 

Jesus allowed the kiss to linger, his lips soft and yielding when pressed to the archer’s. With a slow sigh he pulled back to stare into Daryl’s eyes, searching and filled with sympathy. Carding his fingers gently through the man’s hair, Jesus smiled slowly and nodded as he spoke. “I’m coming with you,” he vowed solemnly, to which the archer frowned deeply in question. “You’re going after the guy who took your bow; you’ll need back up. I’m coming.”

A small smirk tugged at Daryl’s mouth. “How’d you do it? How’d you always know?” he asked, cocking his brow and regarding the other man with slight amusement. 

“You’re not quite as closed off as you think. I know you, I know how you think. I know you feel responsible. And I know you’re a loner. But I’m not letting you run off into the woods alone and get yourself killed. I just found you, Daryl, and whether or not we go further than brief kisses, I ain’t losing you anytime soon.”

Daryl raised his eyebrows, not quite knowing how to respond, so instead he simply nodded, giving a small grunt of acknowledgment. 

The night was spent talking through plans and organising their weapons. And if lingering glances and brief touches were shared then neither of them would ever say. They wanted to be ready. It was important to the hunter, which in turn made it equally important to Jesus – if only to keep the man who enraptured him from being buried six feet under. 

As soon as the sun began to rise they were climbing on the bike and heading for the gate, trying not to rouse too much attention – though the bike wasn’t exactly stealthy. There was a lot of shouting and questions but Jesus managed to talk everyone down as Daryl opened the gate, he didn’t hear what the man said, but it worked – everyone left allowing them to go out without too much drama.

They travelled in silence, stopping at the tracks and stashing the bike in some brush, before heading in the direction Dwight went. Jesus knew better than to talk as he watched the hunter track, his blue eyes narrowed and shoulders tensed as he crouched to find the trail, his hand flicking up every so often to usher Jesus forward. 

They were there for a good hour before the trail got warmer, Jesus could see the calculating looks that Daryl was giving, as he moved slower, crouching further down and hiding behind trees. He turned slowly and nodded his head, directing Jesus to a small crowd of people, all of which were huddled around a dimly lit fire. 

Daryl snarled silently and shook his head, silently telling Jesus that Dwight wasn’t part of the gang. Jesus simply tilted his head, they were still part of Negan’s group, still responsible for a lot of death, most of which were on the Hilltop’s list of casualties. Daryl agreed with a slight incline of his head, raising his bow silently and turning towards the group, still perfectly unaware of the deadly presence that was looming. 

Jesus indicated that he would get into a better position on the opposite side, he didn’t want them both to get caught, if they played it smart they could help one another. Daryl begrudgingly nodded, not that Jesus saw as he silently moved through the forest, using the trees and brush to hide himself as he circled the Savior’s.

Both men tensed as a sharp sound pierced their ears – what was that? 

Whistling.

Everything happened so quickly.

A gunshot rang through the air. 

Both men hit the ground.

One bled.

Jesus awoke, shaking violently as pain spiked through his body, vision blurred and senses failing him. He began to panic, knowing that whatever was happening, in this moment, within this situation, he was not in control. His body was betraying him, every command left unheeded as he gasped and groaned on the hard ground, lungs burning painfully. 

“Finally, we got everyone present and ready for today’s little lesson.”

That voice, it was eerily familiar to him, the deep baritone sending a sickening twist through his stomach and forcing him to lurch upward, sweat beading on his forehead as he gazed into those sharp, deadly eyes; Negan. 

“Well well well, looks like we got a little rebel in our midst. I am disappointed, Paul. I thought we were buddies,” Negan all but cooed, feigning hurt as he pressed an open palm to his chest. 

Giving a low growl of disapproval, Jesus turned his head slightly, trying to find the only person he could currently think about. His teeth ground together as he saw Daryl, hunched over, face pale and head bowed, though he could see his eyes gazing through dark hair, meeting his own with a defeated look. 

“Hey! Look at me when I’m talking, you piece of shit!” 

Jesus hissed sharply as he felt a hard blow hit his shoulder – likely from Lucille - sending him sprawling onto his back. He choked on a gasp as pain shot through his leg, looking down frantically, he found a sizeable wound in his upper thigh, blood still seeping sluggishly. He sighed softly as he realised with relief that he would live; if it had been fatal he wouldn’t have lasted longer than five minutes. 

His head whipped quickly as he heard a commotion, knowing exactly where it was coming from, he scrambled to his knees, ignoring the protesting ache from his thigh, to look over at Daryl. 

“Stop,” Jesus shouted, trying to stand but being dragged down by a rough hand on his shoulder. He shook his head violently as he saw two men laying into Daryl, who was half way across the line up, laid out on the floor on his stomach, clearly trying and failing to reach him. “Just stop. What do you want, Negan?” 

Negan ordered the men to take Daryl back in line. 

“Finally, someone wants to stay on topic,” Negan said cheerily, turning back to Jesus with a broad smile. “Well, Paul, it seems this little group have been causing quite a lot of trouble, killing my men and whatnot. And now you’re here – does Gregory know about this by the way?” He mused, stroking his chin in thought as he crouched down in front of the kneeling man. 

Jesus scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “You know Gregory’s a coward. I did this for the Hilltop. I met these people, I saw an opportunity and I took it. Alone.” 

Negan sighed dramatically as he regarded the man’s answer, before slowly nodding and standing up. “Well, maybe I’d be doing everyone a favour if I chose to bash your skull in.”

Jesus tensed at Negan’s words, but quickly straightened his back to meet the man’s eyes, defiance shining in his own. “If it means saving them then that’s what needs to happen,” he spoke solemnly, ignoring the protests from the others in the line up. He couldn’t hear Daryl, but he knew he’d be the one to protest the loudest if he was so inclined. But he wasn’t like that, he didn’t want to give Negan the upper hand by displaying affection more than once. The first was a slip up, it wouldn’t happen again. 

“Nah, I can think of better ways to take you out. This is just too easy. I don’t wanna kill you while you’re all pathetic and injured. I want a fucking showdown. I want to be able to tell the world that I killed ‘Jesus’ in a fair fight,” Negan replied, smug smile lingering on his lips. 

Jesus laughed softly and shook his head. “If you want me dead, this is your best chance.”

Negan threw his head back and laughed loudly. “See, how the fuck could I kill you now, you smug son of a bitch? I’m saving your ass, let you heal up, then we’ll see who’s fucking victorious. Get him out of the line up.” 

Jesus was dragged back to the large ring of men facing the line up and tossed to the ground, his leg protesting at the violent movement.   
His eyes grew large as he looked them over; Maggie looked so weak, Rick looked defeated, Glenn was a mess and Daryl just sat on his haunches, eyes cast downward, bruises littering every inch of visible skin. 

Gritting his teeth, he scowled at the ground, frustrated at his own stupidity, his arrogance. He had led them all to this, he had talked them into it. He had asked Rick for help. He knew Negan, he knew what he was capable of. And now they were all in danger – because of him. He should have talked Daryl out of leaving, not helped him, even though he was certain the man would have gone anyway. 

Déjà vu. 

His stomach roiled painfully as he heard Negan’s words. 

Eeny.

Meeny.

Miney.

Mo.

Jesus looked up in disbelief, trying to banish the memories of the young boy from the Hilltop, skull split open, blood splattering across the ground, eyes bulging from their sockets, teeth scattering. 

Tears welled in his eyes as the rhyme began to come to it’s sickening close. 

You are it.

Screams echoed throughout the group as the first blow struck.

Tearing his eyes away, Jesus rocked slowly, trying desperately to shut it all out. 

He didn’t know if they could survive this. If he could survive. 

Not anymore. Not in this world. The new world.


End file.
